


It’s Nice To Have A Friend

by noelleKINDOF



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hansy - Freeform, I will sink with this ship, Smut, Why is Harry so horny, no Voldemort AU, side Dramione, sorrynotsorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21706378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noelleKINDOF/pseuds/noelleKINDOF
Summary: in which Harry is always sporting a boner around Pansy.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 168





	It’s Nice To Have A Friend

**Author's Note:**

> W A R N I N G
> 
> 1 - I’ve only watched the movies but I read like, a lot of fanfics, so what’s cannon is actually a huge question mark for me  
> 2 - I haven’t written anything in 6+ years  
> 3 - halfway through I kinda just—well. You’ll see. This wasn’t meant to be rated R.  
> 4 - I’m actually bad at endings.  
> 5 - I wrote this in google docs so I do apologize for all the spelling mistakes  
> 5 - also, this is my first time posting in ao3 so idk what im doing???

[ 14 ] 

  
  


Pairing: Hansy, side of Dramiome 

Rating: M 

Song fic 

AU • No Voldemort • Voldemort dies with Lily and James Potter • Sirius takes care of Harry • 

note • I haven’t written fic in years (6 or so years) and this is my first fanfic ever and I’ve also been reading a ton of HP fanfics so I don’t even know what’s canon anymore

Enjoy

  * •••



  
  


**school bell rings, walk me home**

Fifteen year old Harry Potter might as well die now. 

He was a courageous Gryffindor through and through — so much so that trouble had a tendency to just  _ find _ him and how could he just  _ walk away _ when the most interesting things just happened to stumble upon his life?

Trouble was, he itches so much for adventures that he didn’t know when to stop pursuing something or keep going. At the same time, just as he couldn’t walk away from danger, he also couldn’t walk away from “eavesdropping,” though he thought of it more as a hobby of gathering information (which may or may not have been the cause of all said “danger”). 

“All I’m saying,” Harry heard one of his best friends, Hermione Granger, also known as his very own personal saviour and possibly the only reason he was not dead (or worse, the curly-haired muggleborn witch would say,  _ expelled _ ), voiced in one of her preaching tones. The sort of tone she would use when speaking about House Elves Enslavery or Centaur Rights or something he  _ should _ pay attention to but doesn’t. Not because he was a bad friend but because he had the attention span of a loaf of bread. 

Harry gulped when he noticed that the girl listening to Hermione was Pansy Parkinson, who was probably the biggest pain in his arse but also the girl he may or may not have a small crush on, which may or may not be the reason why she was such a pain on his arse. 

It was the way she would hit him with the iciest glares. After a series of boyish fantasies and a perpetual state of  _ what the fuck  _ every time said fantasies came to mind, he knew he was into it. Into  _ her _ . 

Pansy Parkinson acted like a real lady but when riled up and angry and improper and cursing—  _ oh man,  _ don’t even get him started. She stirred him in all sorts of ways. Mostly the annoyed sort but he also just  _ couldn’t _ help but picture her short, shiny, black hair and her dark, icy eyes, and the way she would glare at him when he said a joke right before he goes to bed. But he digressed. 

Listening in on their conversation, he heard Hermione continued, “Is that women shouldn’t have to stick around and wait for men.”

Intrigued, he reached out to the nearest book and flipped through it, pretending to read as he inched closer to the edge of the bookshelf covering him from their sight. He wasn’t  _ spying _ . He was just in the vicinity, minding his own business, able to hear their conversation by accident. He was very much interested in— he checked the cover of the book— Advanced Arthmacy and Theories of Numbers. Yes. Harry Potter likes to read numbers and equations for fun. 

“But it isn’t tradition,” Pansy protested. He  _ swore  _ he heard her frown and he couldn’t help but smile a little. Her little pout was so fucking adorable that he couldn’t even contain himself. There was a bit of shuffling and shifting before Pansy continued, “That’s not how it works and if you honestly think that this will go well when that isn’t the sort of thing our culture had been doing it, then  _ you _ do it.”

“While tradition is to be respected,” Hermione agreed but Harry knew that this was just her way of starting her arguments, “It isn’t always practical. Times are changing and we can’t move forward if we aren’t the ones making the first step. We should be the pioneers of our generations. Why must you  _ wait _ for someone else to do it first?”

Pansy snorted in a very unfeminine manner and Harry may or may not have gotten a little hardon for her. He could just picture her folding her arms and uncrossing  _ and  _ opening her legs as she sat in a very improper non pureblood etiquette way that would make her mother pop a vein or two. 

“Look, Granger,” Pansy rebutted, sounding as if offended Hermione breathing the same air she was had offended her. “You Gryffindors are supposed to be courageous and follow your heart and all or nothing and all that bull but in Slytherin, we calculate risks before—”

“Fine I’ll do it,” Hermione interrupted Pansy in one of her no-nonsense kind of voice. 

There were a few moments of silence and Harry was worried that they finally cast a privacy charm and he missed all the good parts. 

His hands itched to take his wand and cast a  _ finite. _

“You’re serious.”

Okay, privacy charms were not casted. They must have been communicating in one of those silent and deadly girl languages. 

Hermione didn’t bother to reply and he figured she was giving Pansy one of her  _ do you think I’m kidding _ ? look, a look which she would send Harry’s way at least once a day like when he would invite her to watch him play quidditch at practice and she would tell him she was three hours behind her study schedule and he would laugh and say,  _ good one, ‘Mione,  _ and she would shoot him that spine tingling look. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“Wanna bet?”

Oh, man oh, man  _ oh, man _ . Hermione only says those words when she was ninety-nine point nine percent sure she would win. 

“10 galleons says you can’t tell Draco you like him.”

10 galleons? That was a steep pr— 

He dropped his book. 

_ Did Pansy just say Draco _ ? 

Her words had just registered and his brain couldn’t compute. Did he actually heard that correctly? 

Hermione? 

_ His _ Hermione liked—? 

Had the world somehow turned upside down? Did he somehow entered a different dimension? 

Hermione Granger, the smartest, most independent, all for justice and equal rights, and super powerful and brilliant witch he ever met had  _ feelings  _ for Draco fucking  _ Malfoy?  _

Malfoy who was pretty much the biggest bully in their year? Who single handedly ridiculed and treated them all cruelly so much so that Neville Longbottom had actually _ cried _ ? Draco Malfoy, the biggest ponce in the school?

_ What the actual fuck _ ?

Was this some kind of joke? Was he in one of those muggle television getting pranked? Because there was no way—

“ _ Potter!” _ Pansy was screeching, so angry that her usually perfectly straight hair had strands flying about as her magic sparked her anger— and  _ boy _ , what a gorgeous sight to be seen. The crackling of magic in the air shifted the hem of her little skirt, lifting it up and down like there was a strong breeze in the library, and he was fucking done for it. What a fucking hot visual. “How  _ dare you _ !”

“Umm,” he hesitated, unsure if he was more afraid or turned on of the petite girl, “Fancy meeting you here, Parkinson.” 

“ _ Stupify!”  _

And he was frozen in place, fear in his eyes and a semi under his robes. 

_ Great.  _

“Honestly, Pansy,” Hermione said with a sigh. From his view on the floor, he could see Hermione walked towards him, examining the damage. “That was quite unnecessary.” 

“What if he overheard?” Pansy reasoned, sounding very worried and annoyed and afraid.

Was there something he wasn’t supposed to hear beforehand? He regretted missing out. 

“Probably just heard the Draco bits,” Hermione concluded, probably looking at him thoughtfully. From where he had fallen back, he couldn’t exactly see their expressions. Now, he was sure that there was more to their conversation than Hermione—he almost threw up at the thought if he wasn’t frozen in place— liking  _ Malfoy _ . “Else he would have reacted earlier.” 

Pansy’s shoes— or rather  _ socks _ — Merlin, she was  _ so  _ improper in private— came to his view and his eyes trailed up as high as it could, enough to see where her socks hugged her thigh but not enough to see under her skirt. Disappointed, he felt himself lifting off the floor at the casting of her  _ wingardium leviosa. _

“Fine, whatever,” she muttered, dark eyes glaring at his green ones. He watched her lips moved and wondered how would they taste today. It was painted an interesting colour of dark red like the sheets of his bed and he wondered how she would looked there and he thanked the Gods that he was stupified conepltelg else he’d be sporting a very prominent boner right about now.

“You tell Draco you’re in love with him and I’ll drop this one to the bottom of the lake.”

“ _ Pansy _ !”

Hermione only looked half angry. 

“Fine, by the Griffindork portrait it is.”

“What are you? A child?” Hermione sighed, a soft undertone in her voice that was usually reserve for Harry. It made him wonder how close the two were. He knew they had started tobecome friends just before summer began but he never realized just how friendly they were now. Not that he was complaining as Pansy liked to be comfortable around Hermione and Harry liked seeing her like that. 

“I thought name calling is beneath you.”

“You’re nagging me about name calling when you’re about to profess your eternal love to the literal definition of  _ asshole? _ ”

“He’s your best friend and he’s a sweet man,” Hermione deadpanned and Harry might as well wake up from this nightmare because where in the seven hells would his sweet, innocent Mione defend the ferret? 

“Only when he buys me pretty things,” Pansy countered cooly, “Which, I hope won't stop once he starts buying  _ you  _ pretty things.”

The Gryffindor glared at Slytherin. “You  _ wanted  _ me to do it,” she realized, glaring at Pansy almost … fondly? Harry couldn’t even decipher that look. It wasn’t an expression he was used to seeing on his best friend’s face. It was somewhere in between surprise and anger and fascination. Like she was unexpectedly awestrucked. Hermione never acted like this around the guys. Maybe it was a girl thing? “You were leading the conversation to—”

Pansy smirked, not hiding the fact that she was guilty of whatever Hermione was causing her of. “Slytherin,” Pansy said as if it explained the meaning of the universe, pointing at herself. She pointed at Hermione next before saying in a condescending tone, “Gryffindor. By Merlin your house is so easy to manipulate, Brightest of Your Age or not.”

Harry waited for Hermione’s retort but moments passed and there was nothing but silence. 

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Hermione called out and rushed away after a hasty goodbye, leaving Harry’s frozen body to Pansy Parkinson’s mercy. 

“Shall I dump you in the lake before I drop you off, Potter?”

Suffice to say, he would only eavesdrop when he has his invisible cloak. 

Lesson learned. 

  
  
  
  


**sidewalk chalk covered in snow**

**lost my gloves, you give me one**

  
  


It was two months since The Incident and Harry Potter wanted to just  _ die _ . 

Two months since Parkinson dropped him in the lake and nagged him to keep his mouth shut about their conversation else he would wake up with missing parts of his reproductive system (which he wasn’t sure if he wanted her to carry through or not seeing as it meant Pansy would see him  _ naked  _ and he might just decide that the only way his, er, anatomies should “disappear” is via her mouth and he completely shook off that thought because a boner while being threatened would most likely send the wrong message) on their way to the Gryffindor tower. 

“If i could  _ obliviate  _ you without Grabger finding out, I would,” she warned him some more. 

Though it wasn’t as if he needed to keep quiet anyway because the moment his body entered the cold lake, Hermione had found Malfoy by the Slytherin common room and demanded that he kissed her now else she’d start leaving him alone and snog someone else worth her time. 

Malfoy, even with his cronies surrounding him, was quick to give her an answer. Unfortunately for Harry, Malfoy took her up on it and Hermione has won the bet. Malfoy had hexed off anyone who dare to say anything bad about Hermione and needless to say, the witch had fallen for his charms more. 

Hermione spent Pansy’s 10 galleons purchasing a new pair of quidditch gloves for Malfoy (which he often used and favoured with reasons that it would bring him goodluck to his quidditch matches) and treats for everyone else, which made the situation a little better but also Harry knew that no amount of treats could make him like Malfoy. 

After a month’s worth of treats, Ron Weasley was a hundred percent on board with the relationship. 

The treats Lady Malfoy sent over to Hermione, which she would generously share with everyone, were rather delicious and the fact that Hermione urged him less to study was great even though his grades sort of slipped (but it wasn’t as if Sirius would care much) but also—he was  _ done.  _

But.  _ But— _ it wasn’t as if he had a say in Mione’s love life. 

And yet—

_ Still _ . 

Like, he didn’t sign up for this at all.

His best friend and biggest rival were making out and were basically ripping each other’s clothes off in public and he just couldn’t stomach it anymore. 

Okay, so maybe that was false and that Hermione berated Malfoy into leaving her and her book alone and to make use of his time and study because Merlin knew he’d be able to  _ finally _ catch up to her level if he just applied himself a little bit.  _ Do it for me, please, my Dragon,  _ Hermione had ended her speech and Malfoy blushed and he was putty in her hands, ready to do anything and everything for her. 

“Potter come with me,” Pansy stated, taking him by the arm and dragging him away before he could even refuse. She pulled him until they were in the courtyard and he was freezing cold and she demanded, pulling on his tie so they were face to face: “What the hell is your problem? Stop glaring at them!” 

So he ignored the growing boner after she yelled at him and let go of his hand to pull him close and whined about the cold and the making out thing and that he just can’t anymore. 

“Stop mooning over Granger,” Pansy scolded, pulling a pair of green gloves with a matching Slytherin scarf from her small bag bag — um? How did those even fit in that tiny little bag? 

Pansy casted a warning charm and handed the articles of clothing to him. He gratefully took them from her, all of his things were with the couple and he didn’t bother to take with him because of the barbaric way Pansy Parkinson had just dragged him out of the library. 

He put on the scarf and gloves, relishing the warmth they provided and taking in the smell of Pansy— all roses and florals and girly things alike. He mumbled a thanks when she fixed the scarf on him. 

“I’m not mooning,” he told her but it sounded more like a whiny denial more than anything. Hermione was like a  _ sister _ . Mooning over her was just off putting. “I just miss my best friend, is all.” 

Pansy didn’t say anything as she fixed the scarf on him. She gave him a look, doubting his answer. 

He sighed, feeling a little sad and lonely. Sure, Hermione annoyed him a little but Hermione was the one that just  _ got  _ him. She was his best friend (please don’t tell Ron that) and he couldn't bare to share her, especially not to the biggest git in the world. He told her this. 

“They really like each other. They make each other  _ happy _ ,” Pansy stated, basically ignoring him and his feelings. She was glaring at him now, and man, what a sight. Reddened cheeks and snow dusting around her coat and hair and  _ Merlin _ , how short was that little skirt of hers? His fingers itched to touch her uncovered thigh and explore what was underneath. Was she even cold? 

“Don’t ruin this, Potter.”

And with that, she left him alone in the heavy snowfall, thinking about Hermione’s happiness over his and the way the winter storm blew on Pansy’s short skirt and fuck, what a lovely ass. 

  
  
  


**"Wanna hang out?"**

**Yeah, sounds like fun**

It was Christmastime and Harry Potter has just finished greeting all the guests before his godfather released him of his hosting duties.

“Don’t cause any trouble,” Sirius warned him, a large grin on his lips that advised him the exact opposite. 

“I promise not to get caught,” he replied cheekily, tugging on the cavarat around his neck. 

Sirius’ grin grew larger, as if proud of Harry’s answer. They were Gryffindors, no doubt if it. “That’s my boy.”

Beside him, Remus Lupin shook his head in defeat, a hand running through his hair. “I swear the two of you…”

Harry left his two parental figure and tracked down Hermione and Ron, who was laughing much too hard by the drinking fountain. 

“Don’t tell me someone spiked the drinks already,” Harry chimed in. His two best friends greeted him in a hug before sharing the glass of giggle juice and stories with him. 

Sirius, being Lord Black, has been “convinced” (read: forced, threatened, and/or harassed) by his cousin, Lady Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, to host a Yule ball. If it wasn’t for Sirius’ lack of spine (he thought Sirius was probably one of the biggest push over Gryffindor when it came against his cousins— or maybe it was just a Black women thing? Because Sirius was also a wimp when it came to Andromedea and Nyohadora—Tonks), against Lady Malfoy, he would probably be lounging about, half naked, and eating cereal for dinner. 

By the time dancing has started, Ron had left him in pursuit of one of the French girls their age and Hermione was quick to ditch him for Draco once his arrival was announced .

_ Traitor _ . 

Once his best friends were gone, he could feel all of the ladies after the title of Lord Potter and Lord Black slowly make their way towards him. 

Panicking, he searched for an exit strategy only to find Pansy in a deep (read: boring) conversation with an elder gentlemen who might as well be as old as her grandfather. They made eye contact and for a brief moment, he noticed her pleading to be rescued. 

Without thinking, he made his way towards the dark-haired girl dressed in a  _ red  _ dress. She looked so very delicious wrapped in Gryffindor colours. He couldn’t ever recall a time Pansy had worn such a colour. 

Talk about fantasies coming true. 

“I believe I was promised this dance?” he interrupted their conversation with a lie and Pansy looked very grateful, almost like she was promising that she owed him one. Harry looked at the old man— he was a widowed pure blood; not part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and most definitely seeking a rank up in title via rich, young heiresses like Pansy Parkinson. 

“Of course, I apologize for I’ve lost track of time, Lord Potter,” she said with a shy smile, delicately taking his hand like a little lady she was raised to be. With a courtesy to the elder man, she excused herself as politely as possible, and Harry tried his best not to stare her lovely tits. 

God damn, he wanted to ruin her. Ruin how  _ good _ she was acting because all these politeness and decency was just so sweet and he wanted to taste the feeling of how good she was and the scrumptiousness of how  _ bad _ she could be. 

Because Pansy Parkinson, shortened skirt and tight blouse and angry and glaring at him, was beautiful but  _ this _ —Pansy Parkinson in a red, conservative dress and innocent smile and polite words was just so fucking right up his kink. 

He wanted to so desperately ignite the fire in her eyes and have her yell at him and curse him and fight him and hit him. He wanted to slide his hands up her knee length dress to check what sort of underwear she wore (or if she even wore any) and he really wanted to  _ just _ ravish her in the middle of this ballroom in front of all his guests. 

He would shame the House of Potter and Black but being _this_ close to her, close enough that if he just moved in a bit more, his chest would cover her whole and he particularly liked the idea of wrapping himself around her as if she was _his_ and—

“What?” she hissed, glaring at him as if the mere presence of him offended her. Completely unreasonable, he thought, seeing as he had just rescued her from what he was sure to be a mind numbing hour of pure blood gossip and politics and possibly an unwanted engagement. 

“Aren’t you grateful of my rescue?” he baited, risking her anger. He was only half sure that she wouldn’t step on his toes and walk out. She wouldn’t disgrace the House of Parkinson by stepping on the foot of the heir of Potter and Black in front of an audience. 

Shrugging, she accepted his chivalrous act and managed to mutter a quick thanks before looking away. She looked like she would rather jump off the Astronomy Tower than be here with him and he told her so and she answered him with a sharp laugh but didn’t deny his statement. 

When the song ended, Pansy looked at him— really looked at him— as if the most important decision of their relationship? Friendship? Whatever it was— was in the making. A handful of heartbeats and she leaned up on her toes and—  _ was she going to kiss him _ ?

In front of all these men and women and children? 

What happened to proprietary? To acting like a lady? But fuck him if he didn’t want to taste the crevices of her mouth. Her eyes were determined, a certain glint in them that never failed to stir his dick and she pushed closer and closer, Merlin she was so close and smelled so sweet, and his eyes fluttered clos—

She passed his lips. 

Pansy Parkinson’s cheek touched his and she whispered breathily, “Let’s get out of here.” The words fanned his skin and her lithe fingers wrapped themselves around his biceps (he may have flexed a little more, which got her to flash him a look that definitely said she appreciated what she felt under his shirt) as she swept them in for another song, taking the lead as she maneuvered in a way that lead them closer to the back where they were able to skip out unnoticed, and fuck, he might as well marry the girl now. 

With moves like  _ that  _ he could ditch all the balls he’d be forced to go to. 

Harry followed her lead and couldn’t help the shit eating grin splitting on his face as he appreciated her careful planning and execution when he would have just stopped in the middle of the room and walk away without heeding precautions. 

Once out of the ball room, Harry took the lead, dragging them to his favourite part of the estate. All his excitement to get out of there had him dragging the Slytherin in a fast pace and Pansy pulled him to slow down and he hadn’t realized how  _ stuffy _ it was in there even with all the strongest cooling charms Sirius and Remus had performed.

With a deep breath, he matched her pace as she complained about her heels. Like the gentleman he was, Harry wrapped his arms around her and she gratefully leaned against him, her weight on him as they strolled through the empty halls. 

He should have asked if they should look for Malfoy and Hermione or anyone  _ else  _ really because the two of them alone was very improper— even if they were courting. Yet— 

Pansy Parkinson flashed him a large, heart melting smile that made her eyes sparkle and her grip on him tighter and his heart beating faster. 

Harry might have navigated through the estate where they would pass through some halls unnecessarily before they reached their destination. 

Only to have her hold him longer. 

She must have noticed, he thought, she wasn’t  _ dumb.  _ She was a prefect, for Morgana’s sake, she would have noticed. Even if she did, Pansy didn’t say anything and she never let him go and he quite liked the idea of that. Of Pansy Parkinson holding onto Harry Potter and never letting go. 

“What is that,” Pansy deadpanned as she faced a large television once they finally reached their destination. Upon examination, she turned to look at him and said with mild concern in her voice: “Your mirror needs to be replaced. It’s clearly not working. And it’s ridiculous. I hope you didn’t pay a lot of galleons for this garbag.”

He laughed at the serious expression on her face. He sometimes forgot that she was still a pure blood princess with very limited access to the muggle world regardless of her hanging around Hermione Granger, who had made it her mission to educate young pure bloods (mostly Pansy and Draco and the Weasleys because really, she could be a little overwhelming sometimes that it was hard to handle for the lot who didn’t love her) about the muggle world. 

It was so fucking adorable. 

“It’s a TV,” he answered with a shrug as he pulled her on the couch facing the screen. 

She fell with a screech but didn’t protest as he placed an arm at the back of the couch, forearm dangling on her side as he scooted closer, fingers brushing the softness of her dress. 

He was half worried that she would push him away and hex the shit out of him but he was also half sure that he wasn’t misreading the situation. 

Pansy was comfortable around him. 

Once she started spending time with Hermione, who was possibly the most physically needy person he had ever met (really, he always counted on a hug from her daily when they greet each other good morning and good night and she would always link their arms when walking and scoot so close that their body touched when sitting in the stands or on the dining benches and Hermione just  _ liked _ the physical contact), he noticed that Pansy too was more favourable to the sort of touches Hermione liked to give and receive. That was probably why Pansy sank into his side, her head resting against him comfortably. 

Harry acciod the remote and turned on the television, playing the last movie in the player. Pansy was looking at him strangely and skeptically, as the TV turned on, it’s bright screen illuminating the room in a way that only a lumos maximus could do, which he expected as this was not one of the things every pure blood family owned. 

He could almost picture Hermione littering Malfoy Manor with the latest tech and teaching him how to use a  _ phone _ . 

May Merlin strike him the moment Malfoy learned what a selfie was. 

“I need this in my life,” Pansy stated once they were fifteen minutes into the musical. She turned to look at him, “You have to get Lord Black to convince the lot that this is a necessity.”

Harry chuckled, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt, making himself comfortable. He kicked off his shoes and settled closer to the witch. 

“I can try,” he promised with a soft smile, but her attention was already back to the screen and he couldn’t help but smile some more at this. “But it’s hard to change the old ways.”

She turned to face him for a brief moment, flushing slightly when she noticed that he had shrugged off his robes and had rid of propriety altogether, but her expression remained impassive. 

Pansy Parkinson wasn’t phased. 

She copied him in his undressing and slowly and carefully took off her shoes, pulling her stockings down as she reached under her dress. Harry tried to look away— he  _ tried _ his best, truly— but the little pervert inside him with a gigantic crush on Pansy won and he managed to get an eyeful of her thigh as she pulled the article down her lovely legs. 

“Well, when I take over as the family’s head, there will be changes.” She leaned on his body, snuggling on the crook of his arms and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her as she turned her attention to the movie, not batting an eye in his direction. He was grateful that Hermione had forced her physical affections to this witch because he wasn’t sure what he would do if she sat by him and he couldn't touch her. 

He chuckled picturing the small witch ordering a whole household of Parkinson around. It didn’t seem so far fetched. And Merlin, he didn’t want to be in the line of fire when Pansy Parkinson looked like that. 

  
  
  
  


**video games, you pass me a note**

  
  


Harry Potter was just killed three times in a row and he literally could not afford anymore lives. Not when it involved a video game, Pansy Parkinson, and multiple bets. She mocked his lack of hand eye coordination and Hermione Granger laughed at something Blaise Zabini said and Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley and Theo Nott shared an inside joke and holy fuck  _ what has the world have come to _ ? 

“Eat slugs, Parkinson,” he growled as he pressed the buttons of the controller for a combo but Pansy saw it coming and avoided it and managed to make the last hit killing his character one last time before her victory. 

“Resorting to stealing insults, Potter?” She has this little glint in her dark eyes as the corner of her pink lips quirked upwards into an amused and very satisfied grin. He wondered for a moment if that would be the face she would make if they fucked and she rode him into an orgasm. 

Clearing that image out of his head (because honestly, he couldn’t take the embarrassment of his friends seeing a hardon after getting beaten by Pansy) and frowned. 

“Whatever,” he grumbled, feeling a bit like a sore loser because this pure blood princess managed to beat him at his favourite video game. “Beginner’s luck.”

Everyone laughed and Malfoy took the controller from him before getting his ass beaten by Pansy as well. He felt a little bit better. It was Blaise who had beaten Pansy but not after three attempts. 

Harry has excused himself for a bit of fresh air but really he just didn’t appreciate the fact that both Hermione  _ and  _ Pansy, literally the only two affectionate girls in his life, was paying attention to the other guys, which didn’t bother him, but he wanted someone to hold on to and he wasn’t fuzzy in the head with alcohol to do that to his other male friends. 

“Hey, Potter,” Pansy said a few minutes after. 

She must have followed him. 

“Parkinson,” he greeted with a mock salute. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Here to kick my ass some more?”

She scoffed and crossed her arms, her growing cleavage pushed together more so than usual and—  _ hello, hardon. _

She noticed his gaze and smirked. “Honestly, Potter,” she said condescendingly, “For being the saviour of the Wizarding World, you’re basically like a horny teenage boy and it _ shows _ . You must learn to control your hormones.” 

A year ago, he would blush at this—at Pansy catching him offline at her but now,  _ now _ , he did it just to tease her. Pansy Parkinson was confident and was beautiful and she knew that. Harry Potter also knew that and he wasn’t about to not appreciate her beauty especially when it was just there teasing him. 

Feigning confidence and hiding his embarrassment, he shrugged and felt a little bit more turned on that she had glanced at his crotch long enough to know he was hard for her. 

For emphasis, he glanced down her body, eyes admiring the jeans Hermione had gifted her that sculpted her nice ass and let his eyes linger on her chest. 

“Can’t help it,” he said with a shrug, a teasing glint in his eyes as he glanced at her briefly once more, noticing the humour in her expression, before eyeing her tits again. “You’ve got nice tits, Parkinson. Maybe put them away if you don’t want men staring at them?”

She hit him on the arm. 

“This is for you, you jerk,” she said, handing him a sealed envelope. “Don’t read it yet. It’s embarrassing,” she said quickly when he tried to open the official Parkinson wax seal. 

“I’ll read it tonight,” he suggested.

She nodded in thanks. “I know I’m not the best with words, but I am grateful we are friends.”

Harry’s grin was probably so bright that it blinded her because she looked away the moment he smiled at her direction. 

“As am I.”

  
  
  
  


**sleeping in tents**

Harry Potter could die now and he probably wouldn’t bat an eye. Probably. December break was nearing its end and he couldn’t help but reflect on the last few days. 

Hermione and Ron has always spent a few days at Potter Estate or at Grimmauld Place with him, Sirius, and Remus during the winter holidays. But this year, they were joined by four slytherins and he really enjoyed their company and friendship. 

He most enjoyed Pansy’s company and friendship  _ and _ attentions. 

He was so used to have Hermione hovering around him that when she split her time between her friends and Malfoy, Harry couldn’t help but feel jealous. It was hard the first year of their dating where even though Hermione tried to not leave him out of her life, it was just  _ different _ now. 

Though, now that Malfoy had Hermione showering him with attention, Pansy he directed hers to Harry, which he enjoyed immensely. 

Not that he was trading them off but it was nice to have someone there for him whenever Hermione was missing in action. 

Hermione’s affections were very motherly to him but Pansy was affectionate in ways that had him fueling his deep, dark fantasies. While Hermione would never let Harry carry her things, Pansy absolutely loved it when he held doors open for her and carried her bags and fed her treats. She was quick to cozy up next to him and hold him and smile at him when she spoke with her friends and he really enjoyed having such close intimacy with the witch. 

While Hermione took care of him and dotted on him like how he assumed an older sister would, Pansy was more of someone who wanted to be cared for and that just lined up so well with his hero complex (he could admit that now and he wasn’t ashamed of it). They were both his best friends but not entirely in the same way? He remembered a conversation with Ron earlier in the year: 

“Pansy’s gotten real hot lately,” Ron had mentioned one night in their shared room, late into the evening.

“Yeah she’s got nicer arse,” Harry replied, “I think Mione’s been forcing her to do some exercise.”

“You notice her skirt hiking up more too huh?” Ron added curiously, “Who do you think she’s trying to impress?”

Harry had scoffed at his words, he couldn’t imagine what Pansy would say if people thought she dressed up for boys. He didn’t even want to imagine what  _ Hermione _ would say. “No one,” he had answered. “Mione’s got her convinced that she should never do anything for a man. To wear things and stuff for herself.” 

“Mione’s pretty hot too, huh?”

Harry frowned at the time. Gross. He couldn’t even imagine that. Couldn’t even think of that. Sure, Hermione was pretty in a sort of way but thinking about her anymore made it feel too incestious. “I mean, yeah?” he had answered thoughtfully. “I don’t see it. She’s like my sister. I mean, Ginny’s gotten pretty hot, too.”

Ron faked a gag. “Gross,” Ron barked, throwing a pillow at Harry. “Obliviate me now, please.”

“What?” Harry laughed, throwing the pillow back at Aron. “It’s true! She’s gotten real fit since she started playing quidditch.” 

Ron threw the pillow back. “This is where we end this congregation. Good night.” 

At nights like those, he would wonder how good it would feel to be balls deep in Pansy but he could never get a hardon if it was Hermione in his head. Sometimes, he would think about the other girls in school but for the most part of his nights, it was always Pansy Parkinson writhing and begging beneath him or above him. 

Suffice to say, Malfoy shouldn’t feel threatened by him because the thought of having sex with his best friend made him want to throw up. Not that Malfoy ever showed he was threatened by Harry. 

Nott and Zabini transfigured their own beds, snoozing at the quiet buzz of the television late into the night of their winter holiday. Ron slept on the floor, a throw pillow around his arm and Pansy— _ well _ . She was curled up in Harry’s arms. 

Malfoy and Hermione had taken the couch, limbs tangled against each other as they slept—Malfoy on his back had Hermione laying atop of his boy, an arm wrapped around her waist and a hand tangled in her hair while Hermione had an arm dangling off the couch and the other casually thrown over Malfoy. 

Pillow talk with Pansy was— well, it was  _ nice _ . 

It was like talking to Ron and the boys at the late hours of the night after one or three too many butterbeers but it was easier because he didn’t need to be intoxicated to share his feelings. 

He wasn’t sure if he liked the A.M. conversations more than her fighting him. 

“I know people think I have this huge crush on Draco, but I don’t,” she whispered to him, fingers tracing odd patterns over his heart. He shifted in their position so that he was sitting with his back against the arm rest and his feet hanging over the other side of the sofa while she sort of laid on top of him, her back pressed against the back of the seat and most of her body parked over his. “It’s just—I’m afraid.”

“Of what?” He was floored. She was one of the bravest people he knew. 

Pansy sighed, hands gripping a handful of his shirt. “I’m expected to find a husband as per pureblood customs,” she explained, her fist tightening. “You— you’re a _boy,_ Potter. You can graduate and travel and sleep around and just do— do whatever and it’s _okay_ and no one’s going to think less of you. But _me_.” Her voice was strained and he wanted nothing more than to just hold her and keep her from all of the dumb politics. 

“You can do those too,” he told her, taking her shaking hand in his. Was that why she liked Hermione so much? Because the muggleborn was so liberal and free compared to the conservative views she grew up on? He wondered if Pansy had always thought that way or if it was because of Hermione that she felt like this. Regardless, he felt bad for her because their traditions were all facing against her individuality. “You can do those too and it’ll be okay.” 

It was a lie, but he hoped it comforted her just a little bit. 

She shook her head. “I’ll be shamed,” she explained to him. “Hogwarts isn’t for learning or being the best witch or wizard or whatever,” she told him, “It’s there to sort through the candidates and find your future spouse.” 

It made sense. Many of their classmates’ parents met in Hogwarts and had married young. Even his parents— Lily and James Potter— had met in Hogwarts and James had unofficially proposed to her before school had even ended. 

Finding a bride was never something Sirius had emphasized but he had mentioned Harry needing to sire an heir eventually (unless he were to deem a close friend’s child as his heir, in which Sirius didn’t mind. He especially encouraged Harry that if that was the route he’d take to see that Hermione’s child to be the next heir as it would drive the pure blood society bonkers).

“Did you pick Malfoy as yours then?” He wondered if all the other Slytherin girls felt the same. 

“We have an understanding,” she answered, honestly, glancing briefly at the blonde boy holding onto the curly haired witch. “He’s also expected things despite him being a boy because of the Malfoy and Black names behind him. If we—if we weren’t to find anyone—“

It was starting to make sense to him. Why Pansy and Malfoy were so close and why they seemed like they were intended for one another even though they didn’t particularly date. 

“Was that’s why you pushed Mione into telling him her feelings?” 

She sighed, black and green eyes meeting. “Yes.” She snuggled closer to him and stifled a yawn. “I knew about his crush on Granger. That’s what made me talk to her and scope her out. I love Draco but not in a wife would love her husband kind of way. Not even in a lover kind of way. I love him like he’s my best friend because that’s what he is. I love him like how I love Hermione. And the two of them— they make each other better.” 

Harry understood the feeling exactly. “And me?”

She looked up, looking at him as if contemplating. For a second she looked mesmerized—dazed, even. 

“You’re alright, Potter.”

“You’re pretty special to me, too,” he whispered to her hair. 

Pansy chuckled. “I’ve got you wrapped around my fingers, don’t I?” 

“I’m at your disposal, Parkinson.”

  
  
  
  


**it’s nice to have a friend**

Harry Potter might as well die now because accidentally not preparing his chopped roots for his potion test meant that Snape could fail him and kick him out of the quidditch team. 

He ran to the ingredient cabinet in hopes of finding some spare to quickly chop and add but returned empty handed. 

However, upon returning to his desk, he found just enough on his desk— a cup of perfectly chopped roots by his cauldron with a note saying, _ it’s like you’re the most hopeless person ever.  _ _ you owe me, Potter _ .

And he smiled at the heart dotting the i’s and decided to get Pansy Parkinson a nice bracelet in return. Possibly something shiny because that was the sort of stuff she liked and she had literally saved his ass. 

He had asked Theo and Blaise what to get Pansy. Hermione and Malfoy were not an option, knowing that Pansy would be able to get the information out of them and he wanted it to be a surprise. 

“Are you sure, mate?” Blaise asked as the three of them browsed through a muggle jewelry catalogue. 

“She likes muggle make up,” Harry said, “Why wouldn’t she like muggle jewelry?”

Theo frowned, eyeing the pages Harry had sprawled open. “I think he means,  _ are you sure you want to give Pansy a piece of jewelry _ ?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Do you even like her?” Blaise was frowning. 

Harry, annoyed, glared back. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was heading. “Of course I fucking like her,” he snapped. “Have I even shown otherwise?”

With a sigh, Blaise shook his head. “I know she’s been complaining about Drake never buying her shiny things anymore but I feel like that’s a joke between the two of them. She can definitely buy her own emeralds, trust me.”

“I know she can,” Harry admitted, “But I  _ want _ to get her this.” 

“You’re all a bunch of saps. What’s next, Draco proposing to Hermione?” Theo wondered with an eye roll, “You eloping with Parkinson and naming your children  _ Lily Petunia Potter _ ?” 

“Of course not, it’ll be a boy and we’ll name him James Sirius Potter.” 

Theo rolled his eye. “Don’t come to us when she hexes you left and right.” 

They then spent the next hour picking a suitable gift for their friend. 

  
  
  
  
  


**it's nice to have a friend**

“Die, Potter,” Pansy threw the box of bracelet at him, angry tears threatening to fall from her eyes. There was a crowd around them and she was quick to turn around and make a run for it. 

“W-what?” Dumbstruck, he picked up the silver chain with a little root charm hooked on and ran after the angry witch. 

Suffice to say, he was more than confused. 

“Pansy, wait!” he called out, reaching her quickly enough before she disappeared and ignored him forever. The thing with Pansy Parkinson was that she held a grudge like it was nobody’s business. And he—well, Harry Potter wasn’t really one to mind his own business. If something was wrong, he would get to the bottom of it and fix it. 

“I don’t understand why you’re angry. I just wanted to thank you.”

She glared at him, snatching her hand off of his grip like he was poison. “Is this why you’ve been nice to me?” she demanded, her voice accusing and angry, pointing at the offending piece of jewelry. “I thought we were  _ friends. _ ”

“We are,” he insisted. He couldn’t quite get why they wouldn’t be friends. They stayed up late at all hours of the night talking. He walked her to classes and got her sweets and she listened to him and cheered for him at Quidditch and helped him with his homework. Had he somehow mess it up?

“Don’t you like it? I almost got it in gold, you know, as a reminder that it’s from your Gryffindor friend but you don’t even wear gold anything.”

“I am  _ not _ marrying you,” she said through her teeth.

His jaw dropped. Where did she even get to that conclusion? “I’m not even proposing!”

“That piece of jewelry says  _ otherwise. _ ”

Harry couldn’t wrap his head on the argument. He didn’t know what the fuck was wrong. “I thought you liked these things! It’s not like it’s an engagement ring or—”

And suddenly, it was like a light bulb was switched on his head. 

_ Oh, fuck him.  _

Was this why Theo and Blaise were reluctant to help him? Why they didn’t think it was such a great idea? They literally spelled it out for him and he completely ignored it. He was so fucking dumb. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he apologized sincerely, voice low and sincere, once he realized what sort of fuck up he’d done to their friendship— more importantly to  _ her  _ future.

She glared at him, arms crossed, tears in her eyes. “I’m sure my father would be thrilled that the heir of the House of Potter and House of Black proposed to me,” she stated sadly, “However, my throwing the jewelry at your face…”

“It slipped my mind,” Harry explained, millions of scenarios on how to possibly fix this running through his head. He remembered Malfoy gifting Hermione little gifts and trinkets when he started courting her and only recently that he began gifting her jewelry, which was what gave him the idea in the first place. Malfoy has always given Pansy shiny things as presents and he figured that he could too. But Malfoy and Pansy has an understanding. He and Pansy just had friendship.

He never realized the implications of doing so and he felt like an utter bastard.

“I promise I’ll fix it.” He held out his hand for her to grab. 

“You can’t possibly fix this mess.” But she took his hands and sunk into his chest nonetheless. 

He held her tight, memorizing the feel of her curves and dips against his chest. 

The rumour that Pansy rejected his engagement proposal was probably circulating the whole school by now and he knew he needed help getting this misunderstanding sorted through. 

For Pansy Parkinson, he’d ask—beg, even— Draco Malfoy’s help. 

  
  
  


**light pink sky up on the roof**

Harry Potter felt dead tired. Hermione had him, Draco, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, and Ron studying for the upcoming O.W.L.s. The exams were a few months away but she had the six students begin their reviewing much too early, in his opinion. 

One good thing that came out of the Charm Bracelet Rumour was that it significantly lessened the hours they studied. Only because when Harry has asked Malfoy to teach him pureblood traditions on courting and the likes, Hermione was more than happy to learn as well. 

Malfoy had been genuinely surprised of Hermione’s curiosity to pureblood traditions and while Harry did know some, Sirius was never the traditional sort and he was sure that there were rules— spoken and unspoken— that he would need to know. Hermione, on the other hand, was just thirsty for knowledge. 

“Of course I Like to learn,” she had told Malfoy, “In fact, it should be a curriculum in Hogwarts—  _ Muggleborn’s Introduction to Wizarding Culture _ . Why is that not a thing? Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to know more about the culture. I wouldn’t want to accidentally offend someone. Can you write to your father about that, Draco? He’s part of the school governor isn’t he?” 

“Why don’t you write to him yourself?” Blaise wondered. “It’s not like you’re strangers. I hear Narcissa adores you—makes Mother realize the  _ potentials _ of having a muggle born girlfriend.” 

“I mean if you’ll be the next Lady Malfoy,” Theo Nott teased, “You might as well start showing interest running as the next Lady of the House with the current Lord Malfoy.”

Hermione had laughed at the joke but Harry, who say directly in front of the Malfoy heir, was shocked. At his gaze, everyone had followed and all eyes were on the blonde slytherin. 

Draco Malfoy, for the first time ever, blushed in front of their friend group. The stoic, cold mask he would often wear was not necessarily unmoving—Harry has seen the boy laughed and get angry and annoyed and such—but he hardly showed embarrassment, more so when it involved his family life or love life. 

Hermione stopped laughing, her face suddenly turning red at the implication of what had  _ not _ been said or denied but she didn’t push her boyfriend away nor did she protest against it either. 

Everyone had picked up on this. 

The air was so thick in their stillness, Harry could hardly breath. 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Theo Nott was first to acknowledge it. “Are you?”

Malfoy glared at his friends, eyes glancing at Hermione, who's presence almost always took up the whole room, sank back into her chair out of embarrassment. 

“Shut it, Nott,” Malfoy growled, glaring at the lanky boy, who only shrugged in return, a grin held back on Theo’s lips. “Marriage isn’t something we’ve discussed. We’re still  _ children,  _ for fuck’s sake. Granger has a career ahead of her and—“ sighing, Malfoy ran his hands through his hair— “I don’t need to explain myself to the lot of you.”

As the group continued to discuss (read: argue) about Malfoy’s favour of Hermione being his future wife, Pansy gave him a look that was usually meant they should slip out before things got out of control. 

“Children,” Pansy muttered as she packed her stuff to leave. “I’m going to jump off the Astronomy Tower before I die gagging from this— this couple-ness.”

No one batted an eye as they continued to discuss the benefits of marrying Hermione Granger. 

“If the Malfoy heir actually marries a muggle born— that means— that could open up  _ so  _ many options for House Nott. It’s one thing to date Hermione but to  _ court  _ her with the intention of making her the next Lady of your House?” Theo said gleefully, no doubt his slytherin mind calculating and drawing up plans, “I swear Malfoy, if you mess this up for me—”

“Mess it up for  _ you?  _ Are you—? Selfish bastard,” Malfoy grumbled, glaring at his friend but it was only half heartedly. 

“Okay, bye,” Harry said quickly before taking his leave as well. He liked them and all but he wanted to make sure that Pansy was alright. He already knew that Hermione was in the relationship for a long haul and from what Pansy had told him, Malfoy was ready to marry Hermione the day she demanded he kissed her the day he eavesdropped on them. 

He made his way up the abandoned astronomy tower, finding Pansy sitting at the edge, watching the sun set. 

“Thank you for taking the fall for me,” she said, pushing the sleeve up her elbows to show the charm bracelet he’d given her. “I don’t know how you got Professor Snape claim your were under the effects of a love potion but I am very thankful.”

He shrugged, unsure of where the conversation was heading. He assumed she was moping about unofficial Malfoy’s proposal to Hermione. Or would she be happy? It might help her pick her own husband especially if the scoin of Black and Malfoy was introducing new blood to their family tree. What more if the House of Nott and the Zabinis did so as well. 

“It was mostly Malfoy’s doing,” he answered honestly, unsure of where the conversation was heading. 

“Still,” she stood and made her way to embrace him. With her soft body flush against his, he couldn’t help getting a little bit hard and he was glad that she either didn’t notice or ignored it completely. “I’m very grateful for what you did. I overreacted and that wasn’t okay and I apologize.”

“No apologies needed,” he assured her, running his fingers through her hair. He subtly took a deep breath, taking all of her in. “It was my fault I forgot about the whole courting jewelry thing.” 

She didn’t say anything but continued to hold him longer. He didn’t mind. He liked having her close to him. 

“You should reposition your wand,” Pansy said softly, holding him tighter. “I don’t understand why you would keep it somewhere uncomfortable. Did you break the wand pocket of your robes?” 

Shocked, he laughed. So she did feel his erection. 

“My wand is actually right here,” he said, showing the wand on his hand.

Blushing red, she stepped away and hit him by the arm. “You freaking  _ pervert _ !” 

  
  
  
  


**sun sinks down, no curfew**

The Granger-Malfoy wedding was the talk of the Wizarding world and Harry Potter might literally die from all the cursed letters he’d filtered through Hermione and Malfoy’s mail. 

“It’s the Malfoy-Granger wedding,” the blond Slytherin complained, throwing the paper on the counter as he sulked with his coffee. 

“What? Is the wedding off?” Pansy asked as she took a bite of Harry’s croissant, sauntering into the dining room. The two of them—Hermione and Pansy—had rented an apartment together once they graduated without the consent of Pansy’s family. Though they didn’t particularly mind when Pansy explained that Hermione Granger is going to be a force in the Wizarding World and would make a great ally to the House of Parkinson—especially if the Malfoy Heir’s proposals was a circulating rumour. 

Malfoy had whined and begged about the arrangement, arguing that Hermione should move out with him but Hermione was set on not moving too fast. 

“How do you expect Pansy to move out if her parents won’t let her out by herself?” Hermione had argued, “And no, moving out with Harry or Ron or Theo or Blaise wouldn’t be an option— they’re boys and your backward culture will say she’s dating all of them and that would be a— a  _ mess.  _ Don’t be selfish, Draco Malfoy.”

And so, Malfoy found them a large three bedroom apartment that connected by floo to the penthouse he, Harry, and Theo had bought from a flourishing muggle neighbourhood—“it’s an investment,” they argued when Hermione lectured them on throwing around their money— and they made a habit of sleeping over one place more than the other. Malfoy practically lived in Hermione’s place so it was a regular occurrence to see the five of them having breakfast and dinner together. 

A year into their moving out, Draco Malfoy had proposed to Hermione Granger during a Hogwarts Fundraiser, and the Wizarding World was shaken. It was one thing for the Malfoy Heir to date a muggleborn— teenage rebellion or such was easily brushed off— but to  _ actually marry  _ one with the  _ approval _ of the current Lord Malfoy. The Wizarding World has turned upside down with debates and protesting and most of all, gossips. 

Pansy Parkinson was announced Maid of Honour. The Lady Parkinson congratulates her on the favourable alliance she had secured for the family. 

Still, even after the engagement, Hermione did not leave the apartment with Pansy. Apart from Malfoy’s whining, the five of them enjoyed the arrangement. 

“Of course not,” Theo answered, “Drake’s just a bit sour that it’s being called the  _ Granger _ -Malfoy wedding.”

Harry shrugged, saying, “Alphabetically, it makes sense. G before the M.”

Malfoy threw a croissant at him. “Alphabetically, you’re an asshole.”

“Alphabetically,” Hermione chimes in, “You need to decide on your best man.”

“It’s obviously between Theo and Potter,” Pansy answered for him, “He’s just so prideful to admit that Harry’s a candidate.” 

Harry’s jaw dropped and Malfoy blushed. What the fuck? Since when did he become a large part of their relationship? Not that he would mind. Hermione was his best friend. Draco Malfoy was just the bloke she was going to marry. It wasn’t like the two of them were close.

Well…

He supposed they did play quidditch often ever since Hermione started dating him—competitively and not. 

And went to matches together.

And he did help Malfoy pick out his suit at a muggle shop and taught him all that he knew of muggle culture when impressing Hermione’s family. 

He supposed they’ve also bonded over the two most important witches in their lives—Hermione and Pansy (and well, if you didn’t count Lady Malfoy for Malfoy because Merlin knows he was such a mama’s boy)—and so maybe he had talked to Malfoy about his feelings for Pansy and he had been supportive and Malfoy had talked to him about marrying Hermione and how he knew she was it for him and how he didn’t want to rush anything and— 

Fuck. 

Harry and Malfoy were friends.

They were  _ good _ friends. 

“We’re friends,” Harry blurted out, shocked.

“No,” Malfoy argued, looking at him like he was stupid for even suggesting such a thing. “We are definitely not—oh, Merlin, we are  _ friends _ .”

And thus, the two of them had a breakdown and Theo took the two ladies out for a stroll. 

  
  
  


**twenty questions, we tell the truth**

Once Malfoy and Harry has finished their mental breakdown, the three had arrived with the rest of their friends along with several bottles of alcohol—both muggle and Wizarding. 

Hermione had given them both a hug and kissed Malfoy soundly after his apologies and admission that  _ okay, yes, so maybe they were friends now but Theo is going to be his best man, sorry, Potter, this is too new _ . 

The group littered around the common room, the bottles of alcohol sprawled all over the cozy room, all either empty or halfway finished. 

“My head,” Ginny Weasley whined as she settled on Blaise’s lap and he began to kiss her neck and— 

_ What the actual fuck? _

“What the actual fuck?” Ron shouted in outrage. 

“Oh, shut up, Ron.” Ginny glared at her brother, sinking closer to Blaise. Everyone looked surprised but not one was unhappy. 

“It isn’t new,” Luna piped in, a dazed look in her eyes as she sipped a glass with a mixture of fruits and wine, “Your sister and Blaise has eloped months ago.”

Wait  _ what _ ? 

“I thought you just started dating?” Hermione was quick to stand, looking worried. She tried to step forward, but with the alcohol in her system, had tumbled right into Theo. “What do you mean you’ve eloped?”

Ginny roller her eyes, “I’m not pregnant or anything. I love him,” she answered immediately and Hermione’s worried expression turned to a wide grin. 

“Congratulations!” she said, tumbling out of Theo’s arms and pulling the couple into a large hug. Pansy was the next to exclaim her excitement and jumped in the hug. Harry tried not the watch the underboob she had displayed when she ran and stumbled towards Hermione and Ginny and Blaise. The hug was followed by Luna who wished them the best and Ginny was laughing so much that she was crying and Blaise looked mildly uncomfortable but that was probably because he had a hardon from Ginny’s earlier actions against his neck. 

“Congrats, man,” Theo was next to say as he also came over to add on the embrace. “I’m happy for the both of you.” 

Draco was next, offering the couple any of his properties for their honeymoon if they’ve yet to take one. Harry also offered the same and Ron was the last to say offer his congratulations. 

“I’m mad you didn’t tell me.” This was a shot to Blaise. “But you make her happy,” he continued, “And I’m happy for the two of you.”

Ginny cried even harder and they all drank to their union. 

“Luna was our witness,” Ginny admitted. “Thank you all for being supportive.” 

“All these Gryffindor-Slytherin inter dating is making me nauseous,” Theo commented. “Who’s next? Harry and Pansy?”

“Or you and Ron,” Luna chimmed in. 

Theo glanced at a red-faced Ronald Weasley. “You’re not too bad, Weasley,” he teased and Ron muttered a: “Fuck you,” in which Theo replied: “When and where?”

At the end of the night, all bottles of alcohol had been drank and Harry was crawling his way to the fireplace because there was no way he would sleep on the floor tonight. He was due to see Tonks and Andromeda with Sirius tomorrow for tea and he didn’t fancy an aching back when playing with Teddy. 

“Potter where are you doing?” 

Pansy has taken his hand and began to pull him into her room. It wasn’t unusual for her to do this or vice versa. They had taken into sleeping in the same mattress together when they slept over each other’s places and he liked cuddling her and all but tonight— tonight, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to contain himself if he slept next to her. 

She was just so fucking hot in those little booty shorts with the frayed edges and that crop sweater where he would see her under boobs and oh  _ fuck _ , he would most definitely touch her and grope her like the pervert he really was and all the alcohol he consumed tonight had turned off the little voice in his head that told him fucking Pansy was not a good idea. 

“I really shouldn’t tonight,” he said, his words a little slurred but he didn’t try to push her away when she closed the door and had him sit on the edge of her bed. She had already making her way on pulling his shirt off and unbuckling his jeans and fuck, her fingers were clumsy and she was accidentally brushing her hands over his erection and Harry Potter was just so fucking horny for Pansy Parkinson. He stopped her from tugging at his pants once he’s had him unbuttoned.

He lifted her face by the chin so that their eyes met. He told her the thrush then: “You’re so fucking hot and I’m so fucking hard for you.”

She rolled her eyes at him, not believing him. He didn’t blame her. She had gotten used to his state of arousal around her, taking it more as a compliment than as an attack to her femininity. 

He couldn’t help if she turned him on so much. 

“Stop being melodramatic. You’re getting whinny like Draco.” Even at the mention of Malfoy, it didn’t halt his  _ growing _ problem. Her words were also slurred but not as much as his and she gave him his sweat pants as she got up and began to undress in front of him. She turned around so that her back was facing him and pulled over her top and  _ fuck _ she was not wearing a bra. 

Harry’s eyes were assaulted by the view of her flawless back and are those fucking dimples on her back? Merlin he needs to touch her  _ now.  _

Harry was quick to follow his instincts as he stood and wrapped his arms around her before he could even register what he was doing, pulling her into a hug and he pressed his bare chest against her bare back. 

Pansy gasped, her small hands suddenly holding Harry’s much larger ones. Her skin was cold against his and she shivered at the touch of his hand. He rubbed his growing dick on her ass and repeated harshly to her ear, “Pansy, I’m so fucking hard for you.” He continued to rub himself on her soft, gorgeous ass as she gasped and pressed closer against him, encouraging him to continue, a soft moan escaping her lips. “ _ Please,  _ Pansy.”

“ _ Potter _ .” His name out of her lips sounded like all the answers to his prayers. 

He unwrapped his arms around her waist as he snaked them from the dip of her hips, up her little waist, and to the edge of her chest, fingers tracing the underside of them, memorizing and tracing her dips and shapes and paying a special attention to the curve of her gorgeous tits. The tits he spent so much time stealing glances of. The tits he pictured in his mind almost every evening. 

He spent so much time staring at her tight shirts whenever it stretched over her chest and he always had to restrain himself from touching her but now— _ now _ .

“Pansy,” he whispered her name to her ear when he realized thather hands never stopped his exploration of her body, his tongue darting out to lick the shell of her skin and she moaned, the sound a higher pitch than what he imagined, her hands gripping his now as she pushed his hands up to cup her tits and fucking hell, he must be dreaming because how could this even be real anymore? 

Her whole breasts fit in his palms, not overflowingly so but enough for it to just be handful and he so, so desperately wanted to taste her there. Taste her everywhere. He bit her ear as he whispered to her all the dirty things he wanted to do to her, in which she had eagerly responded by rubbing her ass on his hard cock with enthusiasm and impatience and eagerness that he almost came just by dry humping her. When he mentioned to her how long he’d wanted to touch her lovely tits, her hands squeezed his over her breasts, encouraging his harder ministrations before letting go once he started to massage her rougher and harder to wrap themselves around the unruly mess of which he called his hair. 

“I’m going to fuck you tonight, Pansy,” he promised, squeezing her pink buds of her breast between his fingers, rolling them harder and grinding his hips into her deeper. “I’m going to fuck you so good, it’ll ruin you.” He dragged his tongue down her neck and bit and sucked and lapped at the nape. “I’ll fucking  _ ruin _ you.” 

“Please, Harry,” she whispered, a small hand struggling to reach behind her for his jeans and he groaned when she touched his rock hard cock. “Please, I need you.” 

The sound of her begging was like music to his ears. It shot an arrow deep in his soul and he wanted her begging for more. 

“Beg me for my cock, Pans,” he whispered to her ears, to which she squirmed for him, his body engulfing hers and he enjoyed the feel of her squirming and gasping and begging beneath him. “Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.”

He threw her unceremoniously on the bed and stepped in front of her, between her legs, massaging himself through his underwear as she stared up at him with her big, dark, innocent eyes. She was so fucking gorgeous. He couldn’t wait to see her face filled with pleasure as he fills her up. “Tell me how much you want me to stuff this cock in your hot, wet, little pussy.”

She panted, breathes uneven and eyes zeroing on the tent he was caressing. “I—” 

She gulped, spreading her legs for him with a deep blush, biting at her lips as she looked him through her dark lashes and Jesus fucking Christ what a beautiful sight. 

“I don’t have all day, Parkinson,” he hissed, his dick throbbed painfully in his jeans with impatience. He leaned forward, cupped her pussy over her shorts and squeezed, his fingers feeling the edge of the fabric, slipping in a little to feel the wetness underneath. And gods, she was drenched and he was so fucking hot for her.

Pansy gasped, rolling her head back and closing her eyes as she began to grind her hips on his hand. He ignored the desire to get on his knees and fuck her with his tongue and worship her all night long because he needed to hear her beg for it like she would in all of his fantasies. 

“Beg—“ Harry pushes the material of her jean shorts aside, feeling the slick of her pussy over her underwear. His fingers were drenched even through her underwear “—for—“ he let a finger slip under the soaking, silk panties, feeling the lips of her hot pussy and he was surprised to feel her trimmed and fuck, he needed her badly “—my cock—“ he finally pushed a finger deep inside her and she screamed, her hips bucking as she rode his middle finger. 

“Fuck, fuck, fucking  _ fuck!”  _ Harry thought at every thrust of his finger inside her tight pussy but he was sure the words have slipped out of his lips. She was so fucking wet that he had easily slipped a second finger in and the smell of her was filling the room and intoxicating him. The daze from the alcohol was now gone from

His mind but he was sure that he was still drunk—drunk on something stronger than the whiskey and the shots—he was drunk on Pansy Parkinson. 

And suddenly, she had sat up, eyes on him, challenging him as she raised her hips and rode his fingers, taking what she wanted and he never thought that she could get even hotter and yet? Here she was riding his fingers and moaning and crying and he was so fucking done. 

She took his free hand and placed it on her breast and he was quick to squeeze and play with her bouncing tits. Pansy gasped and moaned and whispered his name like a prayer,  _ Harry, Harry, oh, Harry _ as she brought herself closer to release. 

Harry memorized the way her breasts bounced as she rode him, the way her head was tilted slightly back as her eyes stayed on him, the way her pussy clenched and drenched his fingers, and the way she was saying his name like he was the only thing in her world. 

“Are you close, Parkinson,” he whispered, voice hoarse, and her eyes closed as she whimpered in response, “Please, Harry. I’m so very close, please.”

Her pleading words went straight to his dick. “How badly, Pansy?” he asked, pumping his fingers in rhythm with her thrusts, testing a third finger in. She doubled her speed and her buckling became erratic at the addition of a third finger in her. “How fucking badly do you need to cum?”

She squeezed his digits at his words and he could have just exploded there and then, realizing how much innocent, proper Pansy Parkinson got off of his filthy mouth. 

“So very,” she whispered, crying out as his thumb swiped her swollen clit. “I’m so close, Harry.” 

And with a smirk, he let go of her tits and pulled his fingers back, making her cry with need at the loss of his touch. 

“Harry…” she was crying, voice cracking slightly, reaching for him. He used his free hand to hold her down the bed as he smirked, eyes never leaving hers. 

Taking a deep breath of his wet hand, beautifully soaked with her juices, he licked the fingers that had been inside of her and  _ fuck.  _ He was a virgin but he imagined this scene play out so many times in his head. He never thought she would taste like this. 

“Harry,  _ please _ ,” she was begging him and he had pushed her down on the mattress harder, waiting for a second for her to protest some more, contemplating on whether or not to keep her little shorts on. These were one of his favourite things on her and he wanted to fuck her with them on. But not right now because he wanted to see her pussy. Harry unzipped her hot little shorts and pulled them down her legs, deciding to keep her little white panties on. He made a mental note to ask her to put the shorts on later so he could shove the little slit cover her pussy to the side and fuck her with it on. 

“What would you do to get off, Parkinson?” he asked her, placing his drenched fingers on her red lips, tracing and spreading her own fluids messily against her mouth. 

Her lips parted without hesitation, eyes wide as her pupils dilated with hunger. “Anything,” she said, eyes pleading, tongue darting out to lick up the length of his long fingers. “Anything, Harry.”

Slowly, he slid the three fingers in her little mouth and  _ holy fucking Merlin _ , the sight of a shirtless Pansy with drenched panties sucking on his fingers was not something he would ever forget. 

He pumped his finger once in her mouth and her tongue lapped up on his fingers and sucked it clean and all he wanted to do now was to shove his dick down her throat and have her gag for him as he fucked her mouth with his cock. 

Harry’s other hand was then pushing her panties aside, spreading her pussy open and circled her clit in a leisurely pace. Pansy, mouth full of Harry’s fingers, groaned and sucked his digits with fever as she grinded her hips to his thumb. 

He slipped a finger in her once more as she continued to enthusiastically suck on his fingers until he twisted his fingers inside her pussy a little bit this way and that way and she gasped, mouth full of his digits, grinding harder and harder as a second finger joined the first and Harry was about ready to burst. 

“Are you close, baby?” he asked desperately wanting her to come undone like this and she moaned, her walls tightening at the mention of the pet name. “I said,” he repeated, “Are you close?” 

She nodded and groaned, raising her arms over her head submissively and the position just fucked with him. 

“Baby, “ he whispered to her ears, leaning down so that he could suck and bite and lick at her neck and again, she clenched around his fingers. He groaned, taking note of her reaction to the word, and repeated, “ _ Baby _ , I’m going to fuck you with my tongue and you’re going to cum in my mouth and when you do, I’m going to fuck so fucking hard and deep with this dick you’d feel me inside you for weeks.” 

She nodded in agreement and began to buck her hips. 

Fuck, she was so eager for him. 

And so, true to his words, he let her ride his fingers until he felt her clench and unclench and clench some more on his fingers and screamed, muffled by his fingers in her pretty little mouth his name, “ _ oh, Harry!”  _ before getting on his knees, pulling her to the edge of the bed and opening her wide and made a feast of her convulsing pussy. 

She screamed again. 

Pansy was a screamer and he fucking loved it. 

Harry was quick to place his hands over her mouth— there was no need to let their friends know that he was giving Pansy the fuck of her life—muffling her screams and it just got him hotter than before. He enjoyed her muffled cries and muffled words begging him to  _ please, please, please, Harry, please don’t stop, I’m so, so, very close _ when she was one of the strongest women he knew. Having her beg for him and submit to him was so fucking sexy. 

With his thumb on her clit, a hand over her mouth, and his tongue deep inside of her pussy, Pansy Parkinson came undone. 

He lapped her up, ridding on the wave of her orgasm as she squirmed and squirmed and he didn’t let her go. 

“Harry, I can't—“

He ignored her and continued to devour her, bitting and licking and generally feasting on her pussy until she gasped, “Again, Harry. I’m coming again—please—“

He pulled his hand off of her clit, unzipped his pants and pulled his dick out before entering her in A quick, unexpected stroke. 

“Fuck!” he cried out and she chocked on a gasp, her arms going down to grip on the hand on her mouth as her pussy adjusted and squeezed him. 

He hadn’t bottomed out, only three quarter of his shaft inside her and she was already grinding and trying to take him deeper. 

“Your pussy feels so good, baby,” he tested out the word again as he leaned over to wrap his body over hers and she melted on his arms, back arching, pressing her tits against his chest. 

Right. So she liked to be called his baby. Good to know.

“You ready, babe?” he asked, getting the same clenching sensation around his dick with the word  _ babe _ . Slowly he was building up his ammunition against her. She could easily drive him in such a horny state— now it was his turn to do so to her. 

“I’m going to start slow—“ he began to move, pulling out at a snail pace, enjoying the feel of him being inside her, before pushing in just as slowly. “I’m going to go slow,” he repeated again, catching his breath and focusing on not coming so fucking soon as he slid just a bit deeper. Even after having three of his fingers in her moments ago, she was still so blissfully tight. “And when I fill you up with my whole cock, I’m going to fuck you and you’ll take it, won’t you? You’ll fucking take all the cock I give you?”

She groaned and nodded on his neck as he entered her once again. 

_ So close. He was almost all in.  _

“What was that, babe?” he asked, slamming into her harder. She groaned, fingers digging deep into his back.  _ Fuck yes _ . He could already imagine the bruising and marks she would leave his back. He pulled out and left her empty and wanting, whimpering for him. “I didn’t hear you?” 

“ _ Harry _ ,” she begged.

“Tell me what you want, Parkinson,” he said, “Come now, baby, tell me what you want.” 

“I—“ she groaned, blushing red from her cheeks down to her breasts. 

“You  _ what _ ?” he taunted, flattening his tongue on her breast and taking a lick of both her tits before blowing on them he rubbed the length of his cock on her slick slit. “You want this cock, babe?” 

She nodded, eyes pleading.

“You want me to fuck you?”

Again, she nodded. 

“You’ll take all I give you won’t you?” He taunted with a smirk and she nodded again, groaning in frustration, “Because you’re such a fucking slut for me, aren’t you?” 

She gasped as he entered her deeply, still he hasn’t completely filled her up.

Pulling out slowly, he teased her again, just the tip on his dick in her. “Tell me, Parkinson. Speak with that lovely mouth of yours before I use it for something else.” 

Her eyes widened with the implication in his words and he smirked as she contemplated on her options. 

“I want you so very much, Harry,” she whispered, eyes meeting his as the blush on her cheeks deepened and spread down lower on her chest. She was so fucking lovely. “I—I want you to f-fuck me.”

He slid himself inside her and she groaned, holding onto him, bucking her hips for him to continue. 

He pulled out once more, grinning, “You want me to fuck you? And what will you do for me in return, baby?” He fucking loved how desperate she was for him. How much she wanted to fuck him. 

“Anything,” she whispered, he looked at her in the eyes and his heart was all hers now. “I’ll take—I’ll take what you give me,” she repeated his words, eyes never leaving his.

His excitement grew as the dirty words left her lips. “Because…?”

With a whimper, she closed her eyes and whispered, “Because I’m such a—such a slut for you.”

“Fucking right, you are,” he hissed and entered her deeply, pulling out and pushing through her tight walls. He let himself deeper and deeper, his lips meeting Pansy’s, his mouth explored hers, the taste of her faint from sucking on his fingers and he devoured her moans and cries and the sweetness of it all. 

“Feel that, Pans?” Harry asked, gasping for air. “That's me inside you.” He continued to fuck her slowly, memorizing the feel of her around him just as he willed himself not to come yet, “That’s me, Harry fucking Potter, balls deep inside your pussy, Pansy Parkinson.” 

He increased his pace and she groaned. 

“Harry,” she whispered his name, clenching around him, “I’m going to—“

“Fuck,” he whispered, slamming into her deeper and harder and faster and soon, he had her coming underdone, breathless and writhing beneath him. He continued to fuck her, letting her ride the orgasm into exhaustion. 

“Harry, I can’t—“ she cried out as he sped up hid lazy pace, driving her closer and closer—

“Once more, baby,” he whispered, enjoying the look of ecstasy in her face as she came around his dick again. “Take it, baby,” he encouraged, loving the way the muscles on her puffy throbbrf do sweetly around his hard dick like she couldn’t get enough. “Take it,  _ yeah _ , fucking take it for me, Pansy.”

“I—I  _ can’t _ .” 

Harry flipped her over on her fours, grabbed a handful of her hair as he pulled her up, her slender back arching over his chest as he entered her from behind. 

“You can,” he hissed harshly, her pussy clutching and milking his dick at the whisper of his filthy words, “And you will fucking beg me for more.”

He let go of her hair, took her by the waist in one hand as the other kept her chest pressed on the mattress. “You said you’d do anything, didn’t you?” He grabbed a handful of her scrumptious arse and lightly stepped it, mesmerized by the slight reddening, the shape of his palms marking her perfect skin. 

“Fucking beg me for more, Parkinson,” he hissed as he began to fuck her from behind, his fingers digging deeply into her waist and he prayed to Merlin that the marks will stay with her that if she were to touch herself, she would trace his marks and think of this. Think of  _ him.  _ That at this moment, she was  _ his.  _

“Please fuck me, Harry,” she cried out in bliss, pushing her arse to meet his thrust. .

“How can I deny you, babe, when you’re so fucking polite?” 

He fucked her hard into the mattress, whispering how fucking good she felt around his cock and how beautiful she was taking his big dick like a good little slut and how so fucking amazing she was for taking him so eagerly .

“I’m going to fill you up, baby,” he told her when he couldn’t hold on much longer and she groaned. “You’re going to be filled with my seed and you’re going to thank me for it, won’t you?”

“Please fill me up, Harry,” she whispered, crying in pleasure at his words. 

Harry Potter was done. He couldn’t imagine fucking any other witch after this— after Pansy. 

He reached for her clit and with a flick and a pinch, Pansy came all over him, driving him to his own end, his thrusting faster and faster in uncontrollable patterns until— 

“Fuck!  _ Pansy _ !” He cried out, emptying himself deep inside her womb. 

They collapsed on her bed with him still buried deep inside her, her pussy filled and dripping with his cum. 

“Can we do that again?” she asked, turning around and snuggling against his chest as she traced patterns over his heart. 

“I’m at your disposal, babe,” he whispered sleepily, kissing the tops of her head tenderly. He reached for his wand to clean them up before he wrapped his arms around the beautiful witch. “You know I’m yours.”

  
  
  
  


**you’ve been stressed out lately? yeah, me too**

Harry Potter was in heaven. 

If heaven meant Pansy’s lovely mouth and his dick wrecking her lipstick, then yeah, he was in heaven. 

“Baby, your mouth is so fucking hot,” he whispered as he pushed her body against the wall, his hand holding both her hands up over her head firmly as the other lifted her chin up so that he could watch her eyes as he fucked her mouth minutes before her best friend married his best friend. 

“Tonight,” he promised her, “I’m going to fuck you in that pretty little dress of yours. I’m going to tear you apart and you’re going to be begging me for more, won’t you, Parkinson?”

She nodded, choking on his large dick as he pushed more of his length in her mouth. He continued to fuck her, watching his cock enter and leave her mouth, her lipstick smudged all over his dick and he groaned. 

“Swallow it all, Parkinson,” he hissed as he came deep in her throat. She took him all, eyes closing as she swallowed his load and he thank the Gods that Pansy Parkinson enjoyed his dick almost as much as he enjoyed giving it to her. 

Harry helped her up, taking her hand as she climbed up on her feet. He eyed the dazed look in her eyes and smirked as she squirmed and squeezed her thighs together. 

Casuallyticking himself back in his pants, he zipped himself up and kissed her on the cheek. “You wet for me, babe?”

She nodded.

“Good,” he told her with a smirk. He kissed her soundly, tasting mint and the slight bitterness of himself, lifting her dress up as he pressed his fingers on the soaked underwear, messily spreading her wetness all over the silk of her panties and his hand. He placed his fingers on the bands before pulling it down her feet, getting on his knees to take a lick of her pussy before getting back up and fixing her dress into place.

The black little thing on his hands, he took a big whiff of it before placing it in his suit pocket with his boutonnièr. 

“Think of me fucking your pretty little mouth when you sit down and don’t feel these on,” he told her,biting the shell of her ears softly. “Imagine all the fun things we’ll do tonight.” 

“Harry, you can't…”

“I’ll fuck you in the reception,” he promised her, kissing the exposed skin of her neck. “If you do this for me. I’ll fuck you anywhere you want. Any _ way  _ you want if you strut around Malfoy’s wedding like this. You drive me so fucking hot, baby.” 

“Fine,” she hissed out, her demure no longer innocent and soft but wild and feisty and it was turning him the fuck on some more. “But know that this is embarrassing and degrading and I’ll get you back for this.”

Harry scoffed, kissing her soundly on the lips. “Don’t pretend otherwise, Parkinson,” he teased, smirking, “You’re so fucking dirty for me.” 

“You’re just lucky you’ve got a big cock, Potter.” He grinned, feeling himself garden again at the eords. She ignored his grin and glared at him. “You owe me,” she threatened. 

“I’m at your disposal, My Lady,” he said with a bow, his green eyes watching hers. “I’m yours, Pansy,” he insisted tenderly.

Of all the things he said to her, those words held the most truth. Harry Potter was hers—body, mind, and soul. 

Fucking or not, she owned him completely and he would do anything and everything for her if she asked him to. 

He was in love with her. 

“Get out of here,” she scolded before turning around and strutting to where Hermione was hiding. 

“I can’t believe she’s fucking you,” was Malfoy’s quip when he pulled the Cloak of Invinsibility off of him. 

“And you’re having a second ceremony— muggle style,” Harry shot back with a smirk, “What we do for women we love.”

Malfoy shrugged, “Granger said it bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the ceremony.”

Harry blushed. The reason why he seduced Pansy was because Malfoy was being a baby and wanted to see Hermione!If he didn’t even do  _ that _ . “What the fuck? How long were you spying on me and Pans?”

“I wasn’t,” he glared as the two of them made their way to where the rest of the groomsmen were. “I couldn’t really  _ see Granger  _ under the skirt now, could I?”

“Gross,” Harry pretended to puke, “I don’t need a visual of your sec life with my practically  _ sister _ .”

Malfoy smirked. “And I don’t need a visual of Pansy sucking you off and yet, here we are, huh?” 

“Fuck you, Malfoy.”

“Didn’t know you wanted to.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Something gave you the nerve**

Harry Potter realized that he could die right now and the girl he was in love with wouldn’t know that. 

“Pansy,” he told her while she was being chatted up by some rich, good looking bloke. She excused herself politely and he fucked her on the empty balcony before making a promise of all the things he would do to her tonight if she just keep it quiet while he shoved his cock in her sweet little pussy her without a silencing charm or closing the balcony doors . 

They stayed out a little after, catching their breaths before Malfoy asked them to come back inside as Hermione began to wonder where they were. Pansy glared at him, mumbling something about his insatiable appetite and he replied that he couldn’t get enough of her and Malfoy pretended to throw up. 

In truth, she hadn’t been lying about his appetite for her as she had sucked him off a few minutes ago inside his muggle car before they arrived at the Granger’s residences to pick up Hermione’s parents for a small, congratulatory celebration at Malfoy Manor for the news of the next Malfoy Heir. He returned the favour by fucking her in the solarium once the Grangers were with the Lord and Lady Malfoy. 

The small get together was, well, small was a relative word— there was approximately a hundred guests— most of which he knew from other Houses: Blacks, Notts, Weasleys, Longbottoms. And the ones he didn’t know were relatives and allies of the Malfoys. It was when he was making his rounds of introduction and small talk that someone had targeted Pansy and he felt the need to interrupt. 

“You know I don’t like to get in your business, Harry,” Sirius told him after noticing his adopted son shooting daggers at one of the Malfoy allies. “But can you just fucking give her a ring? Or do you need me to draw a fucking contract first?”

“Language, Sirius,” Remus hissed at his Godfather before turning to Harry. “Marry her only if you’re sure you love each—“

“I’m so in love with her,” he admitted, “I can’t imagine life without her.” 

“Right,” Remus acknowledged, surprise in his face. He probably didn’t think that Harry would be able to admit it so openly. 

“Have you thought about telling her that?”

“Of course,” Harry answered with a frown, “But she doesn’t—“

“Of course she fucking does, Harry,” Sirius groaned. “If you don’t ask her to marry you, I’ll draw up a contract so quick Hermione will hate you and I forever.”

“Fine, fine.” 

  
  


**to touch my hand**

“Potter, I will literally kill you if you don’t propose to me soon.”

Harry blinked, his semi suddenly forgotten. 

Harry Potter eyed Pansy Parkinson from the tall, shiny shoes to her immaculate clothes to the expression twinkle in her eyes and to the perfection of her hair. 

“You aren’t with a child are you?” he asked cautiously. 

“With a  _ child _ ?” She gasped outrage, shooting a hex at him so fast that if he wasn't seeker, it probably would have killed him. “I don’t need you to raise a child with me, Potter, or—“ she gasped “—are you telling me that I’ve put on  _ weight? _ How fucking dare you, Potter?”

He kissed her then, and began coax her until he had her naked and was in the midst of fucking her so good she forgot she was angry at him. After she’d come undone for him, he dragged her into the nearest bed— the guest room at Hermione’s and Malfoy’s new house— and proceeded to fuck her passionately with vigor until they were both exhausted. 

“You’re going to marry me, Pansy Parkinson,” he told her when they were cuddled on the edge of the bed. He acciod the ring out of his jeans pocket and slipped the diamond band over her ring finger. 

“We’re going to have at least two children because one is lonely and I’m going to love you and fucking worship you until the day I die.”

  
  
  
  


**it’s nice to have a friend**

“Harry, you’re not romantic at all,” she told him as they stumbled into their apartment after celebrating the birth of Scorpius Malfoy, the most fucking adorable baby on the world. 

“Don’t be coy, Pansy, you know I fucking love you,” he whispered to her, as she hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt and he began to play with her gorgeous tits, pulling them out of her dress and bra before proceeding to suck and bite and pinch them because the sight of Pansy holding a baby was doing something to his groin.

“I love you so fucking much i'm going to spell it out all the reasons why in your pussy.” Harry got on his knees, hands sneaking up her dress to pull her thong out of the way as he pushed the skirt of her dress up, lips on hers. Pansy groaned, her hands tangled in his hair. 

“Word by word,” he whispered to her lips, fucking loving the way she looked at him with a daze in her eyes and her tits hanging out, “Letter by fucking letter.”

Pansy gasped as he made do with his words.

She was whimpering and saying his name like it was a prayer. “Don’t forget your punctuations, Potter.” 

“Watch your mouth, Parkinson,” he warned her, biting her clit, “Else I’d fuck it like it’s your pussy.” She groaned as he continued to lap her up. “You’d like that, though, wouldn’t you?” he whispered, blowing the words into her wetness. “You love it when I shove my cock down your throat, don’t you?” He got up, unbuckled his belt and pulled his hardened shaft out of his pants. Pansy was on her knees, hands behind her back and mouth open and ready for him.  _ So fucking perfect _ , he thought. Slowly, he held her by the chin and hair as he entered her warm mouth. “So fucking  _ filthy _ for me.”

He came all over her face, telling her to clean the cum all over his dick with her mouth before proceeding to fuck her from behind, his seed a beautiful mess on her face and tits and dress, wearing his essence like she was fucking his. 

  
  
  
  


**(ooh) it’s nice to have a friend**

“You’ll be the death of me, Potter,” Pansy said as he carried a sleeping Scorpius. The two were stuck on babysitting duty as Hermione and Draco—Hermione had berated him to stop calling her husband Malfoy and start calling him by his real name because she almost always responded to the surname as well and  _ please stop, Harry, else I’d kill you, alright? _

“What did I do?” Harry asked, confused, not stopping his gentle rocks of the baby. The tiny Malfoy was fast asleep, snoring ever so slightly in his arms. He had to give it to the two—Scorpius was fucking adorable. The one year old looked like Draco at first glance, but if you looked closer: he had slight curls on his short, blonde hair, a little round button nose like Mione, and Harry was sure that the reckless and brave attitude the child definitely came from his mother. 

Pansy glared at him some more. She was angry at him for some unknown reason and it was so, so bad because all he wanted to do was to push her against the wall and fuck her until she forgot about whatever it was that made her angry. “You can’t look like  _ that _ when I’m trying to make a decision, okay?”

“Like  _ what _ ?” She wasn’t making sense. What the was she yelling at him for? He couldn’t even remember doing anything wrong as of late. 

Pansy was frustrated, pacing around the room and muttering to herself. Knowing that it was better to let her steam off than attack her with questions, Harry’s eyes lingered to the hem of her dress and watched it bounce around her thighs. 

“Like—like, you  _ like  _ kids and, like, you’re good with them and like you’d be such a great father and—“

She groaned, standing in front of him and surveying him before she sighed, taking Scorpius from him to put the baby down in his crib. The little blond Malfoy didn’t stir, already asleep even with all the loudness around him.

Pansy stood in front of him, the anger slowly disappearing as her expression was replaced with fear. Harry was quick to wrap his arms around his fiancée, mumbling encouraging and loving words. 

“Brace yourself, Potter,” she told him, fidgeting with her engagement ring, stepping back, eyes everywhere but on him. “I’m pregnant.” 

It took a moment for Pansy’s words to completely register in his brain. She looked very uncomfortable and when she began to pull back, Harry grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a deep, soul wrecking kiss. 

He was sorry to fuck his beautiful fiancée in front of a sleeping Scorpius but he couldn’t help himself, not when the love of his life was carrying his child. 

  
  
  
  
  


**(ooh) church bells ring, carry me home**

Lord Parkinson was going to kill him, he was sure. It was one thing to get Pansy pregnancy but to marry her without the Head of her Parkinson’s permission? Harry might as well avada himself. 

After finding out the news of the pregnancy, Pansy and Harry took Luna with them to secretly get married after the blonde casually commented about Pansy’s pregnancy glow suiting her. Their marriage— a secret for now—would make their future child legitimate in the eyes of the wizarding law. It wasn’t a big deal for Harry whether their children were legitimate or not but he knew that deep down, it mattered to her and he would move mountains just to keep her happy. 

“She’ll be a tempest,” Luna said, giving them a dream catcher for their unborn child, “I’m so very happy for the two of you.” 

  
  
  
  
  


**rice on the ground looks like snow**

Winter had allowed Pansy to hide the growing bump in her stomach but no amount of thick winter robes would ever hide a six month pregnant woman from the press. They had told their family and friends once the first trimester had ended, though there were some that had already suspected it when Pansy had refused to drink alcohol or coffee within the last few weeks.

The Wizarding Word had gotten wind of the pregnancy at Pansy’s seventh month. 

The backlash was unavoidable but manageable. The couple had given some of their classmates from Hogwarts an early scoop of the situation— to have a safe delivery of the child before having a wedding ceremony—and so they were able to control the stories published and what was said about them by the society. All gossip columns were always a step behind and Harry was grateful for having Malfoy and Pansy for being experts on handling bad press. 

They didn’t reveal the gender of the child, telling everyone that they wanted to be surprised, though they knew from Luna’s comment from their elopement that she was going to be a girl. The last trimester of the pregnancy hadn’t been easy—especially with Pansy’s explosive emotional diarrhea, though their sex life had been truly inspiring and Harry wasn’t one to complain when he was always in the tecieving end of his wife’s talented mouth. What wrote was that Pansy’s breasts had grown larger and she was already ready for him and was more than willing to do things they’ve never done before. Pansy had become a homebody, preferring to stay indoors than brace the snow and the reporters. 

Soon, Harry has found himself cringing in pain as Pansy delivered their first born child two weeks earlier than expected. 

He’d been in a fright, Hermione needing to reassure him that everything was alright and it was all normal. 

After three long hours of labour, Pansy held onto a tiny girl with a head full of messy black hair and bright green eyes. She was a Potter thorough and through. He wanted to hold her but was afraid of dropping his little angel after his wife had wrecked his fingers. Hermione said that three hours was a good, short time but Harry’s broken hand said otherwise. 

Sirius along with Lord and Lady Parkinson entered the delivery room first once the announcement that the next Heir of the House of Parkinson had been delivered and was healthy and perfectly fine. Pansy’s parents hadn’t given much of a fuss of the pregnancy once they’ve learned that Harry had all the intention to marry their daughter and had already done the paperwork to legitimize the child as the Heir of his House. The Malfoys were quick to defend their side, arching with the Lord Parkinson to accept their daughter’s situation— that Pansy loved Harry and he loved her back just as fiercely and that they were having a child together regardless of their marital status. 

When their friends had come to visit, they all brought flowers and gifts and a million questions. 

Pansy was exhausted, Harry could tell, but she was happy and he couldn’t help but to feel his heart swelling at the sight of his beautiful wife holding onto his daughter. 

  
  
  


**call my bluff, call you "babe"**

“What are you naming her,” Theo asked casually, grinning as he watched the baby. Harry could tell that this child would grow in a warm, loving environment. She would be loved and cherished by her parents and their friends.

“I was thinking after my mother and Luna—“

“We’re  _ not _ calling her Lily  _ and  _ Luna,” Pansy scoffed, interrupting her husband with a deathly glare. Turning to their blonde friend, she said softly, “No offense, Luna.”

Luna only smiled fondly, “A wise choice, Pansy.”

Harry frowned. Of all their arguments, the name of their daughter was the only thing they could never agree on. His parents were important to him even though he never met them—he had always wanted to name his children after them and he told her this when they spoke about names and, okay, it was just a  _ name _ and all and she had carried the child inside her for nine months but couldn’t she do this one thing for him? 

She told him that they’ll know when she was born because she was a stubborn woman and he couldn’t think of naming the child anything else that their discussion would sometimes turned into arguments. 

“But—“

“And not after a flower either,” she told him with a glare, “Were not following that family naming BS—no offense, Scorpius, you have a lovely name.”

Hermione laughed and the littlest Malfoy smiled, staring at the infant with curiosity. 

“But I—“

“Potter,” his wife said, exhaustion evident in her expression and Harry nodded. He reminded himself that Pansy had just given birth to a child. She looked so exhausted and all he wanted was to hold her and tell her how much he fucking loved her. “Let’s—can we talk in private?” 

Pansy looked at the group of friends and they all wished them congratulations and good luck before leaving the new family in the hospital room. 

“I would still like to name her after your parents, Harry,” she said after a few beats of silence. “But were not naming her Lily.”

“What do you mean? Like, my Mom’s middle name or something?”

She rolled her eyes like Hermione did when he would say something dumb. 

“Are you going actually going to use that beautiful brain of yours, Husband? Let’s name her Jamie,” she suggested, eyes meeting his and if the doctor hadn’t advised them to lay off sex for a bit, he’d be fucking all over her by now. He was so dumb to not even think of that. He was just so obsessed with either James or Lily that he never thought of anything else. “After your father, James, as she will be the next heir of the House of Potter.”

He grinned, realizing how brilliant that was. How brilliant she was. He fucking loved her so much. “Jamie Potter she is,” he agreed, kissing his wife on the forehead. “Don’t you mean House of Potter, Black,  _ and _ Parkinson?”

She smirked at him, her tongue slithering about his mouth when he leaned to kiss her. “Who says we’re stopping after Jamie?”

His heart raced with excitement, picturing three little Potter children running around the Manor, chasing Sirius in his animagus from and wearing matching Halloween outfits and snuggling in front of the TV and Pansy reading them a bed time story and—fuck. He needed her now. 

“I’ll give you ten more if you want,” he blurted.

Pansy glared at him, slapping his hand away from her chest, the movements making Jamie stir. She looked so beautiful that he couldn’t help himself. “We are not the Weasleys. Two is fine. Or three—one per House.”

Harry voiced his agreement and proceeded to kiss his wife tenderly as baby Jamie Potter was asleep in his wife’s arms. 

“Four. It’ll be an even number,” he tried to argue.

“ _ Potter _ ,” she hissed in that angry tone that turned him on so much. “Kindly drop the subject before an avada hits you.” 

Right. 

Okay. Maybe he could change her mind later. It wasn’t as if ten children would deplete their fortunes. “I’m at your disposal, My Lady,” he replied. 

  
  
  
  


**Have my back, yeah, everyday**

The birth of Jamie Potter was a scandal and Harry might die with all the press. 

Not that Pansy’s pregnancy wasn’t a scandal per se but it seemed like papers didn’t realize that childbirth often always followed a pregnancy. 

But with Hermione Malfoy’s support (Harry was shocked that she didn't hyphenate to Granger-Malfoy. “I love him, Harry,” she told him was her reason, “My taking his last name was important to him and I’m not going to argue with Draco on something so silly. I’m still me regardless of what my last name is.”), Jamie Potter was the first to popularize the idea that women didn’t have to be ashamed of sexual relations before marriage. That it was all okay as long as you were educated and knew of the consequence. 

“Your body, your decision,” Hermione had said and all the young women cheered for her. 

Pansy Parkinson officially changed her last name to Potter after a grand wedding ceremony. The papers managed to catch all the details of the wedding— from the guest list to Harry’s heart melting vows, to the floral arrangements and to the muggle drinks served. What they didn’t write about was how Harry recited those vows on his fucking knees as he worshipped his beautiful wife all night long. 

Jamie was adored and the papers had written a column on how the Malfoy Heir may actually be contacted to the Potter-Black-Parkinson Heir already. 

They all laughed about it. 

There was no way he'd be letting Scorpius Malfoy get his grubby hands near his little angel. 

  
  
  
  


**Feels like home, stay in bed the whole weekend**

“Jamie,” Harry said, dying on the inside as his daughter cried in his arms. It was probably three in the morning and he literally had just fallen asleep minutes before. “We’re going to kill him, my love.”

“Potter, let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” Pansy stated, throwing a quick hex at her husband. She pulled her daughter, a replica of Harry in female form, to the kitchen and handed her a cup of warm tea, placing a warm blanket of her shoulder. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, love.” 

“Mother it was awful!” Twelve year old Jamie Potter cried dramatically. Harry stood by the entrance, letting the two talk as Pansy glared at him when he tried interrupting. 

“Scorp is being so mean to me!”

“What did that Malfoy brat do?” Harry asked, earning him a stinging hex on the arm. 

Jamie teared up. Pansy had always have a soft spot for Scorpius. Most likely because he looked so much like Draco and acted so much like Hermione.

“He stopped talking to me, Daddy!” 

Pansy rolled her eyes when Harry frowned and promised to make the Malfoy heir pay for what he’d done to his little angel. 

“ _ Jamie Potter,” _ Pansy hissed, glaring at Harry. With a curious tone, she asked, “What did you do?” 

With wide eyes, their daughter explained how Scorpius Malfoy had declared his love for her and she had rejected his affections only to be wooed by another boy from Gryffindor. Scorpius has then publically began courting a fellow Slytherin and stopped talking to her altogether. 

“Jamie!” Pansy was angry. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have stomped on the poor boy’s heart? Did you even consider his feelings at all? He’s your best friend, dear.”

“Mother, did _ you  _ lace this tea with— _? _ ” 

“Yes,” Pansy said with a clipped tone, shaking her head. “Do find a way to apologize to Scorpius before Christmas, alright, love?” Pansy’s voice was soft, her words not as harsh as Harry thought, “The Malfoys have been our friend for centuries.”

“Yes, Mother.” 

Jamie Potter was pouting, tears welling up in her eyes. Harry was done. His girls were his biggest weaknesses and a crying Jamie was wrecking his heart. He didn’t care that his daughter was at fault of her rocky relationship with Scorpius. 

“Stay for the week,” Harry said as Jamie stood up from her chair. “Your brothers missed you. We’ll bring you back to Hogwarts on Monday, alright?”

“Thank you, Daddy.” 

They bid their daughter good night before she made her way back to her old room. When Jamie was out of sight, Pansy turned to him with a smirk. 

“And you said she would never marry a Malfoy.”

“I thought something terrible happened,” Harry groaned. “It’s eleven at night. How did she even get access to a floo to get here?”

“Probably the same way how you got into all those trouble back in school. You just seem to keep your nose out of trouble” 

“I never got into that much trouble.”

“May I remind the time I dumped you in the lake?” 

He did remember and he also remembered how fucking hot she was with her school uniform from his view of her as she dragged him to the lake. He wondered if he could make her wear them again. 

“Pansy, kindly shut up before I make you.” 

  
  
  
  


**it’s nice to have a friend**

“I don’t understand why you keep winning,” Harry whined as Pansy wiped the floor clean with him on the new video game he’d purchased. 

“Daddy, move over, it’s my turn!” Jamie took to controller from him and began to play. 

Chuckling, he cuddled closer to his two sons, Sirius and Severus, who was quick to leave him for their mother, distracting her as Jamie won. 

  
  
  
  


**(ooh) it’s nice to have a friend**

“Traitors!” Harry called for his sons but the two boys giggled, holding onto Pansy tighter. 

A pillow war soon started with Harry on one team versus Pansy and the rest of the Potters on the other. Suffice today, Pansy had turned on all of them and was declared winner. 

  
  
  
  


**(ooh) it’s nice to have a friend**

“What do you mean an invisible cloak?” Pansy asked in outrage during his weekly tea with Hermione. 

The now-flawless-haired know it all frowned at her. Who knew Draco was able to talk Hermione into actually getting her bushy hair sorted? Ugh. Hermione was too perfect sometimes.

“You didn’t know?” 

“Does it look like I know about this? That little sneak! No wonder he never get caught in school!” 

Hermione laughed. “Well, I think after Draco and I started dating, Harry never really used it seeing that he’d given it to me.”

“Why?”

“I asked him for it. He thought I used it to sneak in and out of the dungeons but actually, it was Draco that used it more.” Hermione rolled her eyes as she sipped her tea, Pansy eagerly waiting for her to continue. “Draco is actually such a princess. You wouldn’t believe how cranky he gets if he lets people see him without his morning routine first. I mean sometimes, I feel like he's the most vain person I've ever met.”

Pansy laughed, picturing a disgruntled Draco Malfoy early in the gryffindor common room sneak back to the slytherin dungeon. 

“Are you saying he doesn’t wake up all perfect?”

Hermione laughed. “Oh, he does,” she said seriously. “With silky hair like that, he hardly need to brush it.” 

Pansy smiles, watching Hermione sigh with content, adoration in her eyes. 

“I’m glad you decided to fall for Draco,” Pansy admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt as happy as I do with Harry.”

Hermione beamed at her. “Did you know Harry had a massive crush on you before we even became friends?” 

“What?” 

Hermione nodded. “Yeah, he had this weird obsession with you,” she confessed. “He denied it every time I brought it up but you really got him into a fit whenever you would slip out of your mask of perfection.”

“Perfection isn’t a mask, it’s a lifestyle,” Pansy states blankly but her heart was fluttering underneath her cool expression.

She smiled as if she could see right through her act. They sipped their tea in comfortable silence. 

  
  


**(ooh)**

_ Ooh.  _ That was Harry’s favourite sound from Pansy’s lips. 

  
  


**(ohh)**

Harry Potter itched for adventures but not in a way his fifteen year old self had. He learned a little bit of self preservation from his lovely Slytherin wife and, he supposed, he taught her how to be brave. Maybe. 

“Potter, kindly tell me why I’ve never been made aware of your invisibility cloak?” 

He wouldn’t tell if she was angry or not. She had a blank look on her face and he was never really good at reading her when she didn’t want to be. 

“I mean, it’s not really a secret, babe,” he replied, chuckling nervously. “It just never came up?”

Pansy sighed, rolling her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest and  _ god _ , she was so fucking hot when she was angry at him. 

“Let me make it up to you,” he suggested, caressing her arms softly as he planted his lips gently on her neck. 

“You’re brave if you think you can coax me into bed,” she told him coldly but from the tremble on her lips, he knew he got her. 

“Who said anything about a bed?” his words were whispered in her ears as he pushed her up against the wall.

She groaned when he slid a hand up her skirt, his fingers playing her expertly. When she came undone, body flushed boneless against him, she pushed him away. Their eyes met and she hissed, “Sometimes, I hate you, Potter.” 

“Is that so?” Grinning, Harry took hold of her hands, pinning them against the wall as he leaned into his lovely wife, caging her in. “Now, let me remind you how much you actually love me,” he whispered into her ears, muttering a quick spell to keep her in place as he let his hands wander down her body. “Let me show you how much I fucking adore you.” 

She said impatiently, after failing to get out of his bindings, “Get to it, Potter, I haven’t got all day.” 

He laughed and the glare she shot him immediately got him down on his knees and he made true to his words. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
